


An Ante Each

by providentialeyes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, Exhibitionism, First Time, Getting Together, Other, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, having to stay quiet, non-binary john marston
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22840804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/providentialeyes/pseuds/providentialeyes
Summary: “You gotta answer me honestly now, John,” Arthur whispers, “Were you just messin’ with me out there?”John shakes his head quickly, pressing out away from the wall, his hands moving to grip the front of Arthur’s sweatshirt.“You want this, then?” Arthur murmurs and lifts his hand up, wanting to be sure.“Please,” John whispers, “Christ, Arthur,please.”
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 78





	An Ante Each

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yeehawkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeehawkin/gifts).



> slit, nub, hole, used for John
> 
> they're both decently tipsy so if that bothers you beat it

It’s an unspoken game. 

Stupid and childish and really just a distraction and they never verbally acknowledge it, but they both know. 

It’s all about unsettling the other, either through irritation or amusement. 

Dumb expressions behind other crew member’s backs, itching powder, a funny voice crooning along with a work song. 

It’s stupid, and it gets stupider when they’re drunk. 

Dangerous, when they’re in public. 

\--

Movie night, that’s what Dutch called it, an orchestrated bonding tradition. 

Everyone piles onto the hoard of couches and chairs in the living room and sits through some old film they have on vcr.

He and John snag the plush old couch in the back of the room, along with a decent pile of blankets to be divvied up between them. 

The first thirty minutes or so and Arthur’s mostly following along with the plot, but he can tell John’s not. 

Through two beers, and having got up to retrieve a solo cup that Arthur thinks might be rum with a side of coke and not the other way round. 

He keeps half an eye on John, but this particular film isn’t too bad. 

It’s adventure and history and Arthur’s always had a boyish heart for both of those thin-

John nudges his leg, having turned, feet almost in Arthur’s lap, legs stretched across the middle cushion. 

Arthur frowns at him in question, glancing around but he only sees the barest hints of others’ profiles, the room’s so dark. 

John’s socked feet press against the outside of his thigh then shift apart, John steadily holding his gaze when Arthur’s eyes come back up to meet his. 

‘What?’ Arthur mouths, the expression on John tipsy and… Strange. 

John looks away shyly, just for a second, then raises a challenging brow at Arthur, one of his hands brazenly moving to his crotch. 

Arthur looks at the younger incredulously, carefully checking to see if anyone’s looking. 

John’s built a dam with one of the blankets and a throw pillow, even were anyone to glance back towards them, the angle wouldn’t allow them to see anything. 

John slowly moves his gaze to look at the TV, fingers pressing in through his flannel bottoms, palm cupping himself. 

Only Arthur can see, this is purposeful. 

He’s not near as gone as John but he’s tipsy enough that he’s having a hard time processing this. 

Or maybe that’s the shock. 

John shifts his hand and Arthur can’t _really_ see what the younger’s doing. 

But he hears John’s small, shaky exhale, and feels the younger’s socked toes dig under his thigh. 

_“John,”_ Arthur whispers sharply. 

“S’borin’,” John mutters. 

“Christ,” Arthur bites out, exasperated.

John presses his lips together, looks at Arthur, hesitant, now. 

Arthur studies the younger as John shifts, toes withdrawing from Arthur’s leg, shame the brighter emotion rolling off the younger. 

Arthur doesn’t know why, can’t explain it. 

But he grabs John’s ankles, a subtle maneuver, and pulls them over the tops of his thighs, tugging John down to lay down more. 

The younger flails slightly, weight settling in the cushions and blankets, as he stares up at Arthur. 

Arthur bites down on the inside of his cheek, then looks back at the movie, squeezing John’s ankles. 

John's legs flex under his fingers and Arthur rubs his thumb over one Achilles heel.

John’s still and silent for a minute, then Arthur feels the younger shift, hears a tiny, breathy whine. 

It’s easily obscured by the action sounds coming from the surround-sound speakers. 

Arthur’s face is on fire, a burning in his cheeks stretching down his chest. 

He shifts to recline a bit more, drawing one leg up and planting the heel of his foot on the edge of the cushion, knee angling out. 

It just makes the strain of his pajama pants over his erection more obvious. 

John’s feet shift in his lap and Arthur looks over to see the younger focusing on him hazily, lips parted, thighs clamped shut around his hand. 

Forearm flexing, fingers still moving between his legs. 

“Shit,” Arthur mutters and squirms slightly, squeezing John’s ankles tightly. 

John glances around the room slowly, breathing a little too fast. 

Before his gaze settles back on Arthur and he has to press his lips together tightly to stop himself from making a needy sound. 

He fights himself to let his legs fall open again, leaning back on the armrest and keeping his eyes on the older man as he moves his hand to his waistband and slides his fingers under. 

John can feel Arthur’s cock pressing up against his calf, shifts his leg to rub over the bulge. 

Arthur inhales sharply and digs his nails into John’s ankles through the woolen socks. 

Quickly pretends to be paying attention to the movie when someone shifts in his peripheral. 

But it’s just Javier, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. 

Arthur swallows roughly and presses down on John’s leg, lightly shifting his hips, just barely giving into the urge to grind against the pressure.

Hears John’s tiny whimper.

Waits until Javier is sitting back down with a fresh bottle of whatever. 

Then he slowly lifts John’s legs, catching the younger’s eye and nodding subtly towards the hall that leads to their rooms. 

He gets up, walks past the first turn, hesitates, then turns another corner, standing next to John’s door. 

This part of the building is original, his room only down the hall, John’s having initially been for seasonal workers. 

He hears John’s socked feet padding down the hallway. 

Slow and shuffling and Arthur can hear the confusion and hesitance in the space between each step. 

He leans around the blind corner and grabs John’s arm, muffling the younger’s gasp with his other hand. 

John looks up at him with wide, startled eyes, then glances around slowly. 

Arthur switches their positions slowly so John’s back is against the wood-plank wall. 

“You gotta answer me honestly now, John,” Arthur whispers, “Were you just messin’ with me out there?”

John shakes his head quickly, pressing out away from the wall, his hands moving to grip the front of Arthur’s sweatshirt. 

“You want this, then?” Arthur murmurs and lifts his hand up, wanting to be sure. 

“Please,” John whispers, “Christ, Arthur, _please.”_

Arthur studies him seriously for a moment then nods towards the living room. 

“That what gets you off? Bein’ risky like that?”

“... Sometimes,” John says breathily, looking down, tracking Arthur’s hand as it moves down, from John’s arm, to his lower belly. 

The backs of Arthur’s fingers are warm, through the thin shirt he’s wearing. 

“We can be a lil’ risky,” Arthur slips his hand beneath the waistband of John’s bottoms the younger gasping, squirming and moving his hands back to grip one edge of a wooden plank on the wall. 

Arthur raises a brow when his hand meets heated skin and coarse hair dripping with slick. 

“Jesus,” He says hoarsely, crowding a little closer to John, moving his other hand down and lifting one of the younger’s legs, bringing it up to wrap around his hip. 

John gets the idea pretty quickly and scrambles to hold onto Arthur as the older man hitches him up, pinning him to the wall. 

“Soakin’ wet, John,” Arthur says quietly between deep breaths.

Moving his fingers further back, the heat of John seeming to sear his fingertips, a jolt of want coursing through him. 

Arthur bullies his face into the crook of John’s neck, forcing the younger to lift his chin, lips ghosting up the cord of muscle, leaving fleeting kisses in his wake. 

John bites down on a whimper when Arthur presses a finger inside of him, quickly followed by another when he meets no resistance.

John clenches around his fingers, pulling them in deeper and Arthur huffs his gentle amusement against the younger’s neck, a shiver going through John. 

The action in the movie seems to pick up, a muffled comment from someone sparking laughter from others, the sounds all filtering down the halls to them. 

John gasps shakily and closes his eyes tightly, his hips twitching down. 

“You do shit like this… On your own?” Arthur murmurs, looking down at John’s hips pushing away from the wall, the younger practically fucking himself on Arthur’s fingers. 

John makes a whiny, embarrassed sound and digs his fingertips into Arthur’s shoulders. 

"You do, don't you?" Arthur pulls back slightly to look up at John, wedging himself more firmly between John's thighs. 

John presses his lips together and looks down at Arthur pleadingly. 

"Stay quiet," Arthur mutters then hikes John further up onto his arms, simultaneously lowering himself to his knees. 

“Oh fuck,” John whispers and Arthur quirks a pointed brow, prompting the younger to lift his hand to his mouth. 

John glances to the side at the hallway then closes his eyes, heart beating far too fast in this moment. 

He wants to see Arthur, wants to see the touch of sleepiness and the _heat_ in the older man’s eyes. 

His blood is rushing in his ears, drowning out the sounds from the living room, and he peeks open his eyes to watch Arthur shoulder his weight and wriggle down John’s pants. 

A little, strangled sound escapes him when Arthur moves his head between John’s legs and the younger can feel hot breath in waves over his slit. 

“Bring your hand down here,” Arthur murmurs.

John protests quietly but Arthur hushes him and John presses his lips together, sacrificing the hand over his mouth and hesitating with it hovering in front of his hip, next to Arthur’s face. 

“Spread yourself,” Arthur whispers and John whimpers, thighs flexing, squeezing Arthur’s shoulders. 

He slips his fingers into his slit and spreads himself apart, shivering when Arthur’s breath ghosts over his nub. 

“There you go.”

John watches wide-eyed as Arthur looks up at him, eyelids heavy, lips parted as the older man leans in. 

Lightly drags the barest tip of his tongue over John’s nub, letting his lower lip catch under the bundle of nerves. 

John twitches and his fingers flex, brushing against Arthur’s face.

Arthur tilts his head and moves to press his tongue against John’s hole, groaning unintentionally as John’s slick coats his tongue, sticky and burning hot, dripping down his chin. 

He opens his eyes to look up at John, not having realized he’d closed them, and shifts John to tilt the younger’s hips up more, teasing around John’s hole as the younger starts to squirm, hips giving little, aborted thrusts. 

“Art, please,” John whispers desperately, his heels pressing into Arthur’s back under the older man’s shoulder blades. 

Arthur can feel amusement pulling at his cheeks and squeezes John’s thighs before slowly licking into John, twisting one of his arms to hook over John’s thigh. 

He brushes his fingers over John’s for a moment, then slips between them where John’s holding himself open. 

He brushes the side of his thumb over John’s nub absently, then does it harder when John clenches and he has a first-row seat to the bead of slick dribbling out. 

Arthur feels his cock pulse, pre-come soaking into his pajama pants. 

“Shit,” Arthur whispers and John’s legs cross behind him at the ankle, squeezing him tightly. 

His eyes dart to the side and he feels John tense when they both hear footsteps coming down the hall. 

Arthur knows right away they’re Bill’s, heavy and drunkenly stumbling. 

There’s a bathroom and Bill’s bedroom before the corner they’re hidden behind, so the chances of him coming all the way back here are slim to none. 

John starts squirming to get down and Arthur hushes him quietly, squeezing the younger’s thigh until John goes still. 

He looks back up at John, keeping his ears on Bill, and lowers John so the younger has one foot on the ground, and he can switch his hands around, moving his mouth to John’s nub and his fingers to the younger’s hole. 

“Arthur,” John whispers sharply, breathy and desperate.

“You’re fine,” Arthur murmurs and teases John’s nub between his teeth, the younger’s thigh tensing on his shoulder. 

John rips his hand away from himself and presses his palm tightly to his mouth, muffling what would be a too-loud whimper into something pitiful and whiny. 

Arthur feels a hungry fire inside himself, with flames licking up and daring to burn him from within. 

Hungry to see John succumb, to get the younger over the edge. 

Aching at the thought of someone hearing John making all these needful sounds because of _him._

Arthur grunts quietly, shifting on his knees, hips tilting in a slow flex, wanting to grind against something and only meeting air. 

“Please,” He hears John barely whimper behind his hand and he shifts away, dropping John’s leg off his shoulder a bit roughly as he stands. 

John falters and stumbles, thumping back against the wall and Arthur shadows the movement, pinning the younger once again with three fingers curling and thrusting up hard into John. 

The footsteps stop and John looks at him wide-eyed. 

Arthur shakes his head, continues fucking his fingers into John. 

John’s practically crawling up the wall, muscles tense and eyes watering at the effort to hold on to the edge he’s teetering on. 

“Someone back there?” Bill’s voice carries down the hallway. 

“Just me,” Arthur says, low and clear, his eyes never leaving John’s. 

“O-Oh,” They hear Bill mutter and John arches away from the wall, helplessly, the sound of his slick squelching louder as Arthur changes the angle.

“Go sleep it off, Bill,” Arthur says, letting just the tiniest bit of annoyance filter into his tone. 

Moving his fingers faster and harder. 

John’s hand comes up to grip his shoulder, fingertips digging in sharply. 

They hear the steps resume and then a door opening and closing. 

Arthur quirks a brow at John and John closes his eyes tightly, moving his hand up to thread into Arthur’s hair, gripping the strands like a lifeline. 

John sobs against his hand, clenching around Arthur’s fingers and curling in, pressing against the older man as he comes, hiding his face in Arthur’s neck as his hips jerk and he barely keeps down his gasps and whimpers. 


End file.
